


Lost in the Fog

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Come Eating, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MerMay, MerMay 2019, Mind Control, Other, Sirens, Spitroasting, Telepathy, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles, eldritch horror, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Me:wants Premium access to a specific kink siteKink Site: $10 a month.  Or write 1k of smut.Me: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.





	Lost in the Fog

_Stay within the village gates after dark_ , the elders said.  But the young man knew better and was not afraid.   _Bar the doors and shutter the windows when the mist swells from the sea_ , the elders warned.  But the young man did not listen and did not care.

And so the song entered freely through the wide open windows, and the unbarred door was no barrier to a wandering body.  And so it was that the young man who did not heed the words of wisdom could not help now but heed the words of summons.  He drifted through the mist and passed obliviously beneath the village gates.

Walking inevitably to the silent sea. 

Where he was awaited.

To his eyes, lidded and lost, there was a woman; the most beautiful he had ever seen, with red-gold hair, amber eyes, and breasts round and ripe.  To anyone else?  If any other was so foolish as to be out of doors on such a cursed night, who could say what their own bewitched senses would have shown them?  But the simple minds of beasts are not so easily fooled, and the owl in the hawthorn saw a pale creature, too tall for a man, with a mass of writhing limbs below its waist.  The fox kit saw fangs and claws, and fled for the safety of its mother and littermates.  The moth saw pulsating light that repelled and attracted in equal measure and flew too close and was lost.

The siren stretched its face into a rictus grin, and the young man fell in love with the lady's gentle smile.  Her hands reached out in gentle caress and his clothing fell away, slashed to ribbons by talons that had no need of a knife.

And then the singing stopped.  And then the colors faded.  And the young man woke from his dreaming to behold the siren's true form, and he screamed.

The siren crooned at his terror, its voice still sweet despite its monstrosity, and then its limbs lashed out to bind the young man, a living fetter at each wrist and ankle, pulling him taut.  The tentacles were thick, warm, and slimy, with suckers that clung to his skin and left sparks of pain-pleasure in their wake.  The young man thrashed and shouted, and although he did not come remotely close to breaking the siren's grip, the creature made a noise of displeasure and resumed its light show.  Bioluminescence danced before the young man's eyes, and soon he hung limply within the siren's grasp, his body paralyzed by the colors but his mind alert, aware, and utterly trapped.  It did not resume its song, and the beautiful lie of the woman did not reappear, and the young man came to realize that the creature _wanted_ him helpless and terrified.  He whimpered his despair.

His gaze captured by the siren's light, the young man could not see the new appendages that began to explore his body.  He could only track the invasion by feel; gentle sucker-kisses along the flesh of his inner thighs, bruising constriction around his forearms and buttocks, a slimy caress on his cheek.  And then a tentacle found his nipples and he humiliated himself by moaning aloud.

The siren's slime tingled where it coated his flesh, and the young man suddenly found himself wishing that he could struggle against his bonds for a different reason.  His senses were aflame, his manhood hot and heavy between his legs, and he was torn between the madness of being unable to rut against his own rapist, and something like gratitude that he was physically unable to shame himself in such a manner.

His aroused state did not go unnoticed, and the siren gave him a wide grin that was full of teeth, its black eyes gleaming.  YOU WILL BEG, it hissed, and the power of its voice even now was such that the young man almost did just that.

 _N-no_ , he forced himself to whisper aloud, and the siren made a chuckling sound and patted him on the head.  It was an almost affectionate gesture, and the young man became aware that the creature's words had not been a command but rather an observation upon the inevitable.

 Something slid along his perineum, pressing into his sensitive flesh in a way that made even the young man's pliant body buck into the touch, drawing a ragged moan from his lips.  A pair of delicate tentacle tips fondled his balls, the suckers teasing at the velvet flesh without sticking fast.  And his cock...

There was never a moment when the young man's cock went untouched, and yet.  The tentacles teased him mercilessly, working him with a firm grip for a few delicious strokes before returning to aimless caresses, keeping him perpetually hard without the release of orgasm, coating his dick and filling his foreskin with that magical, maddening slime that made him burn with need.

It was almost a relief when the young man felt the club-shaped tentacle pressing at his entrance.

The appendage toyed with his virgin star, dipping inside his rim only to pull out just as quickly.  The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt; the young man could only liken himself to a plucked harp string, the vibration radiating out from its source and making his cock thrum in harmony from the inside out.  It was almost enough to bring him over the edge.  Almost.

If only the club-shaped tentacle would just  _take_  him already.  Before this moment the young man would have been horrified by the idea of being bred like a woman, but with his nerves alight and his spine singing and his cock engulfed in the sweetest torture imaginable while his body hung unresponsive and  _useless_  in the siren's grasp, all he could think about was release.  He didn't know where the knowledge originated from, but he knew deep within himself that it would come -- that  _he_  would come -- when the siren finally claimed him for its own.

The young man also knew that once this final barrier was breached, nothing in his world could ever be the same again.

And he no longer cared.

 _Please_.  The word slipped from his lips without his having willed it.   _Please, Master.  Lord.  Goddess.  Husband.  Dominatrix.  Use me, break me, reshape me in your image._

_Fill me_

_Fuck me please FUCK ME_

_Please_

_I am yours_

_I am_

_I_

_..._

_.._

_._

 

 

The Siren's smile was a beatitude.  And the mating tentacle, that club-shaped appendage that sheathed itself deep inside the young man's carefully prepared passage?  That was a  _miracle_.  Prayer flowed from the young man, words and blissful cries in equal measure, all of them pleasing to his Siren.  Suckers strummed his rim, rubbed his insides into ecstacy, and even as he drew ever closer to the edge, he knew that it no longer mattered when he came.  Or if he did.  He was a divine instrument, and being played was his purpose.  Nothing more, and nothing less.

Warm wetness at his lips.  The young man obediently opened his mouth, and was rewarded with a second appendage, the Siren's other mating tentacle, sliding past his tongue to probe his throat.  Without so much as a thought of gagging, he relaxed his throat and let it happen.  He gave himself up to rhythm of the tentacles, content to be the Siren's vessel as It fucked him from both ends, a push and pull that was meditative and blissful and inevitable and _perfect_.  The slime coated his tongue with the taste of honey and cinnamon, and as it trickled down his throat into his stomach where his body would absorb it into a permanent part of his being, the young man began to feel a presence in the back of his mind.  It was warm, and possessive, and so,  _so_  proud of him.  And the young man realized that the Siren had chosen to break him when It could have effortlessly conquered him at any time, and he wept with gratitude that his Siren had allowed him to earn Its love.  To become worthy of It.

It was almost an afterthought when the world went white and he painted the surf with his seed.  But then the fish were there, feeding on his spend in the foam, and he was happy that he could serve in that way, too.

He could not move when the Siren finally eased his body to the sand, but it was from exhaustion rather than paralysis.  Gentle tentacles stimulated his arms and legs, helping pump blood back into numb limbs.  Clawed hands stroked his hair, but he had no fear of them.  If he could have lifted his head, he would have planted worshipful kisses on the Siren's mouth, heedless of Its sharp teeth.

Eventually the dawn came, as it must, and the mist began to fade back into the sea.  And the Siren touched the young man's forehead.  FORGET, it said.  FORGET, AND _RETURN_.

And, as he always would, the young man did as he was told.


End file.
